Suppressed as a Muggle
by Ravenfeather11037
Summary: Vernon Dursley successfully concealed all of the letters that Harry received from Hogwarts, so he is enrolled at Stonewall High; a local Muggle state school with a tendency to turn a blind eye over bullying. Despite this, Harry manages to make friends with the other school outcast. Of course the Dursleys are happy at his enrollment; but was it the safest choice?
1. Privet Drive

Harry Potter lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. It was his first day at Stonewall High, and there were multiple things running through his mind. What would people say about his uniform? His Aunt had dyed some of his Cousin Dudley Dursley's clothes for his uniform and they were ghastly. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had given him an official Stonewall blazer and tie, as there was no getting away with dyeing those, but his trousers were too short and too baggy, his shirt was horribly stretched and his jumper was also in this state. He didn't even want to think about his socks.

There were plenty of other school-related items whirring through his brain, but the other thing that dominated it other than his uniform was his letter.

Back in July, Harry had received two letters addressed to him. This first had his cupboard on it, the second (After being hastily moved to it) being his bedroom. His Aunt and Uncle confiscated both of them before Harry had a chance to read what was inside. The mysterious Letter Writer had kept quiet after that, and on his birthday, the last day of July, Uncle Vernon had an unnerving look of triumph on his face.

Harry heard his Aunt yelling for him up the stairs, so he tore his eyes from the ceiling and slid of the bed. He gave himself one last look at his uniform and walked down stairs and into the kitchen. Dudley was already there in his brand new Smeltings uniform, his mother looking at him fondly.

Uncle Vernon looked up from behind the _Daily Mail_ and looked at Harry. For the first time in Harry's life he actually smiled at him, though it wasn't very genuine.

"Here's the boy!" Said Uncle Vernon stiffly. He turned to Aunt Petunia who also had a smug look on her face, and said in a carrying whisper "At least those bloody letters will leave him alone now!"

Harry frowned, as he had only received two, and then it crossed his mind that his Uncle must have hidden more. He sat down on the opposite side of the table to Dudley and ate his minimal breakfast sourly, wondering what the letters had to do with his first day at Stonewall. Dudley had already finished his and was shifting in his seat, eyeing Harry's, but Harry ignored this behaviour. He was used to it.

"Right-ho! Let's see how our little Dudders does at Smeltings, eh?" Chortled Uncle Vernon as he ruffled his son's hair. "Great school that. When I was at Smeltings, I was-"

"How is Diddikins feeling? Is he excited? Is our Duddlydoo ready to go?" Said Aunt Petunia fondly, interrupting Uncle Vernon's lecture about his school life. Dudley looked mortified. "I suppose you're finished?" Aunt Petunia fired at Harry, her tone suddenly harsh.

"Well, yeah, I think I'll go now, have a very... um... nice day at Smeltings Dudley..." mumbled Harry. Dudley looked suspiciously at Harry, then stole a rash of bacon from Uncle Vernon's plate, whose nose was back behind his newspaper.

Harry cleared up the family's plates (Including Dudley's, who had already finished his bacon already) and placed the pile in the dishwasher. Harry hurried to the hallway and pulled on his old and worn school shoes from St. Gregory's Primary School, and hurried out of the door.

Stonewall was only five roads away from Privet Drive, but as Harry turned into Wisteria Walk he was already feeling tired and weary. He supposed that it was his nerves. He didn't blame himself for this, since he was wearing an even worse version of his St. Gregory's clothes, which had escaped Aunt Petunia's dyeing methods which left his Stonewall uniform even worse than it was before.


	2. Stonewall High

Chapter 2 - Stonewall High

As Harry approached the tall iron gates of Stonewall High, He looked around at his fellow students. He saw other beefy men like Uncle Vernon driving their sons and daughters to school, and even heard one short women with long curly hair call her son "Jamsey Mamsey" which reminded Harry strongly of Aunt Petunia's patronizing words of "Diddikins" and "Popkin." Harry saw nobody else with a second-hand uniform and took hold of the slits where the buttons would go, hoping he could hide his jumper, only to find out his blazer didn't have any buttons. Harry scowled, thinking his Uncle had removed them on purpose, and walked through the gloomy gates.

Harry looked around, and his immediate impression was that he had accidentally walked into a prison ground. There was an eight foot high wall surrounding the school, made of dusty cobblestones, and Harry realised where the school had received its name. He looked within the gloomy grey walls and saw that all the buildings were made of the same cobblestone, and Harry decided that the school completely lacked any character. Even the uniforms seemed to be made of the same grey as everything else.

He walked over to the stone building to his left, which had a laminated A4 paper sign stapled to the wooden door. It said 'First Year Classrooms.' Harry noticed other marks around the paper where previous staples had punctured and wondered why they weren't clever enough to put the paper in the same place to avoid damage. They were supposed to be teachers, after all. He walked through the door, which creaked very loudly when opened, and walked inside to be met with yet another stapled message that read—

 **PUPIL SURNAMES A-M TO YOUR LEFT, END OF CORRIDOR**

 **PUPIL SURNAMES N-Z TO YOUR RIGHT, END OF CORRIDOR**

 **NEW TEACHERS TO YOUR RIGHT, TURN LEFT AT FIRST JUNCTION**

Just as Harry turned down the corridor to his left, he was poked rather harshly in his back. Harry spun round, half expecting to see Dudley, but instead there was a tall, thickset boy who was almost as wide as Dudley himself, but consisted of muscle rather than fat. His eyebrows were black and bushy, but his hair was short and blond in contrast. His eyes were very thin and almost invisible under the eyebrows but Harry could see that they were a very, very dark shade of brown, almost black. His lower lip was permanently curled downwards, showing very crooked teeth. He also had a very large nose. His whole uniform was pristine and clean, but he wore it with his top two buttons undone and his tie loosened so much you could hardly see it as it disappeared under his jumper. The boy noticed Harry surveying him, so he surveyed Harry. Harry pulled together his blazer so he couldn't see the jumper, but the boy was looking at something else.

"So you're the Potter boy?" He growled in a very deep voice, and very slowly too, as if he had trouble stringing a sentence together. "Nice trousers." He sneered, and Harry realised there were six people behind him as they all sniggered. He had only just noticed them. They were all as thickset and stupid-looking as their leader. Harry knew that if he was brave or acted as though they were a waste of time, they would leave them alone. Well, that was what Dudley did, anyway. So Harry raised an eyebrow and said-

"How do you know my name?" because that was, in fact, the thing he wanted to know the most. The boy sneered.

"Dudley Dursley. He's a good friend of mine." He replied. "I've heard you get beaten up a lot?" He continued and his hands balled into fists, his eyes still fixed on Harry's trousers.

Harry knew where the boy was going with this conversation, so he decided to play it cool and rolled his eyes, and casually turned on his heels to carry on through the left hand corridor. He didn't bother looking to see if the boys were following as he expected to hear six pairs of large feet thundering behind him, but he found himself fall forward as the boy punched him in the back, but for some reason he didn't feel any pain. He turned and saw the thickset boy behind him, his knuckles white and he was laughing his head off. Harry got up off the floor feeling confused; he hadn't felt a thing. Maybe Stonewall had anti-bullying blazers, thought Harry. He then realised this impossible, and some dull comprehensive school like Stonewall couldn't possibly have special Blazers that stop pain. The boy had stopped laughing he actually looked confused too- maybe Harry's confusion showed on his face. The boy turned, gave a wary look over his shoulder, and then walked into a door labelled 'Third Year Classrooms.' Harry took the blazer off and saw a greasy fist mark on the back, which he tried to wipe off, but failed miserably. He put the blazer back on and walked into the first year classroom just as the last of the thickset boy's thugs had filed into the 'Third year classrooms' door.

Harry was the first in the room. He saw a safety pin on the desk and grabbed it before anyone else could snitch on him for stealing. From his experience at St. Gregory's, people snitched on every tiny thing; He remembered someone from Year Five who accused him of stealing half of a broken paperclip that happened to be lying next to his desk on the floor.

After he had fastened his safety pin and sat on his desk (This was a technique of Dudley's, Harry thought in vain that it might make him less of a target) and waited grimly for the day to start. More people filed into the room, some sat on chairs, and some sat on tables. The last of them to come in was a girl about the same height as he was and wearing a uniform just as ragged as Harry's. He tried very hard to hide his pleasure, but it must have showed anyway because the girl smiled at him, but her smile wavered when she looked at his choice of seating. Harry turned to the front so she wouldn't see him flush, but noticed that she chose the seat next to him out of the corner of his eye. The door opened again and the teacher walked in, and Harry sat down in his chair hurriedly. The others who were sat on the tables stayed there, and Harry noted that he should avoid table-sitting in the future.

The teacher was ancient. She had saggy skin that drooped down at every wrinkle. She had thin grey hair that was collected together at the back of her head in a Ponytail, but her scalp lacked hair so much that parts of her head were completely bald and the thin hair flew outwards in wisps at the back of her head that could be seen at the front. She had cold, white eyes and enormous square spectacles which seemed to have a huge subscription as the glass seemed to bulge outwards noticeably. She wore a sleeveless maxi-dress which made her flabby appearance even more pronounced, and Harry noticed that when she lifted her arms the skin flapped around a lot. He had to stick his knuckles in his mouth to stop himself laughing.

The strict flabby teacher surveyed the class, stopping on all the people on the tables until they got off and sat on the chairs. She even paused on Harry and the girl next to him, probably because of the shabby uniforms. Eventually she sat down, and said in a surprisingly loud voice-

"Good morning class! My name is Mrs. Kebadse and I am your form teacher for this year. I will also be teaching you History. I will not tolerate talking in my class unless you have been asked, and you will immediately receive detention if you are spotted looking at other people's work." Mrs. Kebadse paused again so she could survey the class (again.) About a minute later she resumed "All the teachers keep a record in the register. If we see anyone misbehaving you will receive a cross next to your name. If you get five crosses, you receive detention. If you get to ten, you will have to see me and I will give you a personal punishment and your parents will be notified. I do not expect anyone to get to fifteen but if you do… You will be thoroughly miserable for the rest of the year." She surveyed them again. "Your record will be reset at the beginning of each term. Now, I'll take the register!" Harry decided that this teacher was a force to be reckoned with. He hoped he wouldn't accidentally turn her hair blue… That would be disastrous.

The teacher rummaged in her desk and brought out a plastic folder and opened it to the first page. "Emily Nandrode! Imogen Olox! Edward Riley!" Each time a name was called, the said student would promptly answer with a "Yes Mrs. Kebadse!" trying not to sound too scared. Harry found out that the girl sitting next to him was called Maisie. There were a lot of people in his class, and had to wait a long time before his name was called. "Harry Potter!" the teacher called and Harry replied with "Yes Mrs. Kebadse." Maisie, who Harry had been watching in the corner of his eye, turned sharply and looked at him in surprise. Harry didn't know why—maybe she knew Dudley and heard he had a cousin? Maybe she expected Harry Potter to be a stuck-up bully who was a wide as he was tall? Harry thought nothing of it and pushed the matter from his mind. The teacher had finished calling the register (Finally) and everyone started to file out of the room to their first lessons, which for Harry (And Maisie) was Maths.

Harry sat next to Maisie and could not help but notice that she was openly staring at him. As the Maths teacher hadn't arrived and everyone else had started to chat, Harry decided to see if he could make friends with Maisie. So far, she was the only one that accepted Harry. He desperately wanted to impress her; he didn't want to lose his first ever friend that he had had in his life.

"Um… Hi Maisie, um, how are you?" Harry mumbled. Maisie continued to stare at him. Harry looked at her eyes and noticed that they were a lovely shade of greyish blue. Her hair, despite being grubby, fell naturally down her shoulders that complimented the eyes. She had slightly tanned skin on her face but Harry noticed that it seemed to be recovering from a recently acquired burn. Despite this, she was very pretty for her age.

"You're Harry Potter!" Maisie blurted, then she turned brick red and looked down. Harry thought this was a little odd.

"Um… yeah, I know I am. Um… yeah… Um…" Harry honestly couldn't think of anything to say. He had never had any friends in his life so had no idea what people talked about. Maisie recovered from her embarrassment fairly quickly and stared at him again. This time, Harry noticed that she was looking at his forehead. Specifically his scar. Then she looked at Harry apologetically. "Do I know you?" Harry asked, because Maisie was showing familiarities with him beyond being told that he was Harry Potter. Maisie just blushed and said nothing for a bit, then hesitantly, very hesitantly, she said something that Harry almost missed.

"Have you had any letters recently? Um, ones delivered by… birds?" She asked tentatively. Harry felt his jaw drop.

"W-what? Th-that was y-you?" Harry spluttered. "W-what was in th-that letter? M-m-my uncle w-wouldn't let me r-read it… he hid all of th-them…" Harry trailed off at Maisie's horror-struck face.

"So that's why…" Maisie murmured. She probably thought that Harry couldn't hear her because she didn't blush when she said the words.

"That's why what?" He questioned. Maisie turned crimson and didn't say anything. "Well?" Harry pressed. Maisie looked up timidly.

"You got a school invite for Hogwarts." She said slowly. Harry just looked at her, expected her to elaborate.

"And?" Maisie just looked at Harry apologetically. "Oh, so it was just a school invite. It probably cost money, that's why my Uncle wouldn't let me see it." Harry finished. Maisie looked like she was going to say something but the Maths teacher entered the room and ordered everyone to be quiet.

"Right! Mrs. Kebadse went through all the rules with you. I will not tolerate any misbehaving. Today we will be studying fractions…"


	3. The Wizarding World

Chapter 3 – The Wizarding World

He knew that he shouldn't think about it, but Garrick Ollivander was wondering when Harry Potter would enter his shop. He remembered his parents well, oh yes, it was as if it were only yesterday. His mother's wand was ten and a quarter inches, willow, swishy. Good for charm work. Wow, his father's was eleven inches, mahogany, with a core of-

The bell in his shop tinkled, meaning the entrance of someone wanting to purchase a wand. Ollivander turned excitedly, expecting to see Harry. He was rather keen to know what wand he favoured. But instead he saw the long white beard and hair of Albus Dumbledore, with his wand in hand. Ollivander stared at him for a second, wondering why the old wizard had returned, but then he smiled. "Albus!" He said. "What brings you here? Wand of fourteen—"

"Yes, thank you." He interrupted. He hastily tucked his wand in his robes and carried on, "I would like to know. Has Harry Potter been inside your shop? I would have thought there would be rumours flying around that Harry Potter has returned to the wizarding world, but I have heard nothing." He paused for a moment while he looked around, then said, rather cheekily in Ollivander's mind, "I see this place hasn't changed one bit since I walked into this wand shop ninety or so years ago."

Ignoring his last remark, Ollivander answered immediately, "Well, It's funny you should say that, I was just wondering myself when he would come. Bit late isn't it? Term starts on the first of September, only two days." Ollivander sat down of the rickety wooden chair behind his desk, his fingers interlocked. Maybe he didn't know how to get to Diagon Alley? Maybe at this very moment he was searching London?

But Albus Dumbledore's face fell. "That's what I have been worried about. This is beyond anything I have imagined!" and without another comment, he swept from the shop. Ollivander stared at the place Dumbledore had just been standing, his silver eyes unblinking and confused.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall was sitting at her desk, surveying the results of the Movement Sensory Charm she had placed on Harry Potter's ten letters. She had noted the first ever letter had been partially opened, but not read. The second had the letter fully opened and all the pieces of Parchment unfolded, and then refolded. It must have been read, but then the parchment had been shredded. The other eight had been completely ignored, though pressure seemed to have been applied to the letter, as though they had been stored; or, as she suspected, hidden. She didn't doubt this, she remembered _very_ clearly that day where she saw Harry's _loving_ family. She tutted to herself as she opened the mahogany desk drawer and lifted out 3 pieces of parchment and an envelope. She dipped her phoenix feather quill (A gift from Albus and his pet Fawkes; She highly disapproved of it as she accidently sent magic out of it sometimes, but she didn't want to disappoint Albus. Even _she_ admitted that the feather was truly beautiful) in the emerald green inkpot and yet _again_ wrote the letter to Harry James Potter. She decided to ask the owl to send it to Privet Drive just as Harry would be returning, so his _awful_ Aunt and Uncle couldn't stop it again.

After writing the acceptance letter in ordinary black ink and the supplies list, she slid the third piece of blank parchment towards her. She hadn't bothered with this in all the other letters, but decided that she need to explain to poor Harry what was going on before Dumbledore came and explained everything a bit more thoroughly, but knowing the attitude of the Muggles Harry must have been led to believe that magic doesn't exist. She lowered her quill towards the thick yellow parchment slowly and began to carefully form her words. She _must_ make sure the boy understands.

After all the pieces of parchment were sealed in the envelope with the Hogwarts crest, with successfully casted Movement Sensory Charms and a Doubling Charm (Just in case she failed, she didn't want to spend another hour writing another personal note to Harry Potter) she added the envelope with a charm that made sure the Uncle and Aunt definitely didn't get hold of it. " _Ita Dumtaxat Ut Pro Unius Manus_ _,_ " She murmured, her wand pointing at the Hogwarts seal. The letter shook and gave off a momentary golden light then faded back to normal. Just as she had stood up to attach the letter to one of the Hogwarts owls Alfrola, someone knocked on her door.

"Come in." Said McGonagall, a little annoyed, she wanted to make sure Alfrola arrived in time. But to her surprise, Albus Dumbledore walked into the room, but his eyes no longer seemed like they were twinkling as they normally did, but looked grave, almost upset. McGonagall smiled at Dumbledore who was now looking at the letter that she was holding.

"I came here to tell you… Harry Potter has not been receiving his letters. But I see you have noticed that already," observed Dumbledore, still eyeing the letter over his half-moon glasses. McGonagall stared at Dumbledore, waiting for him to elaborate. Eventually Dumbledore picked up what McGonagall wanted and said to her-

"I know your suspicions, Minerva, but I have my proof," He started. "I had a short conversation with Mr. Garrick Ollivander who informed me that our dear old Harry has not set foot in his wand shop. I moved to various other shops, most notably the Leaky Cauldron, but none have them have set eyes on young Mr. Potter, nor heard a peep from him after that awful incident ten years ago." Dumbledore continued, ending with a tone that quite clearly said 'But, it isn't as simple as that.' So after McGonagall shot Dumbledore one of her famous stern looks, which she even used with the headmaster, Dumbledore continued "I know what you put in that letter, Minerva, but I will have to make sure he understands _fully._ " McGonagall, of course, already knew this.

"So when are you going to visit him?" She inquired. But Dumbledore's eyes regained their former twinkly touch, but in a serious situation like thins it wasn't a good sign. McGonagall looked questionably at Dumbledore.

"Me? Oh no, I attract far too much attention!" He chuckled, patting his beard and arranging his robes. "I've decided to let _Hagrid_ do the job." Finished Dumbledore, a creased smile now on his face.

"Hagrid?" said McGonagall, exasperated. " _Hagrid?_ I assure you, he will attract just as much attention as you would! If anything, it would scare the boy!"

"Ah, I have my reasons, Minerva." Dumbledore replied. He let out a long sigh, muttered "Good Day Minerva" and swept out of the room with no further explanation.

* * *

Ronald Weasley was sat on one of the small armchairs in The Burrow, trying to picture the replay of the Chudley Cannons V Holyhead Harpies game he had watched the previous day. Unfortunately, He didn't have the greatest memory so started making it up. He was silently celebrating the seventieth goal from the Cannons when he heard a rather loud _thump_ on the window directly behind him. He jumped, and bouncing up to kneel on of his seat as if expecting an attack, he pushed open the grimy glass. He looked down and just about saw the wing of his family owl Errol lying unconscious on the flowerbed in the dimming light. He rolled his eyes and walked out of the lounge, through the kitchen and out of the front door to collect Errol. He had to withdraw him quickly, as several Gnomes had started to tug and pull on his grey feathers. Ron was surprised to find that a copy of the _Evening Prophet_ was tied to Errol's spindly leg. They only had a subscription for the _Daily Prophet,_ and Errol never delivered it.

Ron lade Errol next to his mother so she could perform the famous _enervate_ spell (Which she had to do _every single time_ Errol returned from a flight) and took off a small note of parchment from the newspaper. It was from his father.

 _Dear Ron,_

 _I thought that the article on page 3 at the bottom left hand corner might interest you. As your sister so frequently tells you in a monotonous tone of jealously, Harry Potter should be attending Hogwarts in the same year as yourself. Ignore what it says about Dumbledore, I know it's not true. It was written by Skeeter, of all people. I shall leave it to the_ Evening Prophet _to explain the rest._

 _Tell Molly that I will be late home today- Mungdungus Fletcher has set up an advert in Muggle magazines about self-cleaning toilets. They actually explode when you try to flush them. This will take a while to fix._

 _Hope you and family are well,_

 _Dad_

Ron told his mum about the exploding toilets and turned to page three. There was a picture of Albus Dumbledore striding through Diagon Alley next to the article.

 **HOGWARTS CATASTROPHE-**

 **DUMBLEDORE'S MISTAKE ON THE BOY-WHO-LIVED!**

 _ **Rita Skeeter**_

 _Carolina Yeysmot, an attractive, clever witch of 29, lets the Ministry into some exclusive information on the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore. She heard him conversing with Garrick Ollivander, the old grouchy wand-maker from the wand-shop Ollivander's._ ('How stupid does she expect us to be? Everyone with a brain knows that someone called Ollivander owns Ollivander's.' thought Ron) _Ms. Yeysmot informed us that she heard Dumbledore, notorious for his favouritism at Hogwarts, ask Ollivander whether he had seen Harry Potter in his shop._

 _Harry Potter, or the Boy-Who-Lived, is famous for the tragic accident at the age of 1 that killed his parents and left to live with Muggles. Dumbledore is rumoured to have been sent over a hundred and ninety letters, all of them had obviously not met their mark. Mr. Potter, still scarred from the terrible night 10 years ago, has made no attempt at contacting the wizarding world. Dumbledore was seen leaving the shop in a state of worry (see caption 2) and apparating to whereabouts unknown, but it is guessed that it is Hogwarts_ _._

 _Many fans of Mr. Potter will hope to see him at Hogwarts, and hoping that our Headmaster doesn't slip up on something so important again._

Ron put down his newspaper. As his Dad had said, it was Rita Skeeter writing, so it was probably a load of old frog spawn, and Ron also concluded that Carolina Yeysmot must be a Slytherin. Ron walked into the kitchen where Errol was back in his cage and wordlessly threw the newspaper onto his mother's knitting. She gave him a questioning look, as she thought the _Evening Prophet_ was a waste of time, she thought that any information worth reading was saved for the _Daily Prophet._ So Ron, being the elaborate person he was, muttered "Page 3" and exited the room.

Ron heard his mother exclaim "Carolina Yeysmot, _29?_ She was two years above _me,_ That Slytherin brat! Wait. Attractive? _Attractive?_ " He smirked as he moved up to his bedroom, enjoying the rare occasion where she openly insulted people. He was very surprised when she called the woman a brat. Ron decided that _he_ should try sending a letter, but with Percy's new owl Hermes (He need to give a good impression, rather than Errol turning up unconscious) as Percy had only used him once sine he got him a month ago. Ron thought Percy would spare his owl for the legendary Harry Potter, even if he didn't let Ginny use him. Ron closed the door behind him, blocking out the remaining insults from his mother.

* * *

 _Constructive criticism is appreciated._


	4. Headmistresses and Squibs

Chapter 4 – Headmistresses and Squibs

Harry was sat on the only bench in Stonewall High's small concrete playground. He had fled his Geography class as soon as the teacher dismissed them so he could get peace and quiet. Harry was very intelligent for his age, which became clear to all the other students and teachers during his Maths class. Not only did a few girls corner him after class flirting with him because of his brains and his 'nerve to wear a ripped uniform,' but the teacher had had a word with him too. He had asked Harry why he wasn't in a private school, and Harry had to explain his situation without causing them to look into his life at his Aunt and Uncle's house. The last time he told on his 'family,' they had denied mistreatment and treated Harry like Dudley whenever a teacher of the school was around, and gave him severe punishments afterwards. He did not want to go through that situation again.

Harry's heart stopped when he saw the thickset boy and his gang marching directly towards him, looks of malice on their faces. He hastily stood up from his bench and walked briskly in the other direction, trying not to cause too much attention. Unfortunately this didn't work, as the boy's gang all had longer legs than Harry and threw him on the floor. But this time, it _hurt._

He let out a small cry of pain before the boy started to kick him. After the fourth kick he knelt down by Harry, right by his face.

"We haven't been properly introduced." He sneered. "Mark Jacobson. Remember that name. I will make sure that it will be the bane of your existence." He stood up, kicked him one more time, and left the scene, his cronies laughing and spitting.

"Harry? What are you doing down there?" Harry craned his neck around to see Mrs. Kebadse leaning over him. She lacked concern in her eyes, and just stared down at Harry with a slight frown.

"I got pushed over." Harry murmured to the concrete. The teacher just helped him up.

"That's a nasty graze on your knee! Did you trip over?" Mrs Kebadse said in a patronising tone, obviously oblivious to Harry's first comment. Harry frowned at her.

"A third year boy and his gang- Mark Jacobson, I think- Just bullied me." Harry decided to be blunt about it, as she ignored Harry's first attempt. His teacher continued to frown at him.

"Now, Harry, lying is against the school rules and you know that. I went over them this morning. Mark Jacobson's family are very well respected and would do no such thing." Mrs. Kebadse did her signature pause to glare at Harry. "Follow me to the Headmistress' office. We need to discuss this with her." Before Harry could react, she turned around and walked to the Head's office.

Harry gingerly pushed open the door. Inside was a large office, devoid of furniture beside the desk and two chairs. There was a synthetic plant beside her desk, and there was white wallpaper surrounding the entire room and a white carpet. The room was incredibly bland.

Behind the desk sat the Headmistress. She was quite large for a women, and her thickset features reminded Harry of the last person he wanted to think about. She wore a black dress and a red cardigan, and her nails were also painted red. This was the only colour in the room. To his horror, the small silver plate attached to the front of the desk read 'KL. Jacobson.'

She looked up at Harry for a moment before adjusting her seating position on her black leather armchair so she was sitting upright. She gestured at the rickety wooden chair on the opposite side of her desk and Harry plopped himself down onto it, causing the chair to creak loudly. Every time Harry moved, the chair would rock back and forth on the chair legs.

Mrs. Jacobson scrutinised Harry for a long moment before finally leaning forward, her chin resting on her hands, her elbows on the desk.

"So," she started, "I hear that you accused my Grandson of bullying."

Grandson? This woman looked younger than Aunt Petunia!

"This accusation is serious, and I will have to give you a severe punishment for it!" She snarled. She started to glare at Harry expectantly. Harry almost hung his head and let himself be punished, as that was what he was taught to do, but he felt angry. _Very_ angry.

Harry's hands curled into fists. How _dare_ she accuse him of lying when the proof was sitting in front of her! Harry _hated_ her blatant favouritism!

He felt a large spike of bravery he had never had in his life. This encouraged him to lift his chin up defiantly.

"Your grandson is a bully. He kicked me in the side five times as hard as he could; look!" Harry told her. As soon as he finished, an alien feeling passed through his body, and he noticed that his words echoed loudly through the room. The Headmistress blinked and, as if in a trance, nodded.

"I will speak to Mark." She said monotonously. "Let me see?" She asked. He lifted up his shirt to reveal dark purple, foot shaped splotches. Any normal person would have gasped, winced or any kind of reaction, but Mrs. Jacobson simply nodded slowly. "Mrs. Kebadse will escort you to the Matron's office." She said, in a calm, slow tone. Then she picked up her paperwork from her drawer, paused for a couple of seconds then started blinking rapidly.

"Mrs. Ja- Headmistress. Are you alright?" Harry asked tentatively. She didn't respond.

After a few moments, she stopped blinking and her paperwork continued its journey from the drawer to the desk.

"Well? Off you go then! I don't have much time you know!" She snapped, her calm demeanour changing to one of anger. Harry's facial expression moulded into one of shock, then nodded numbly. He left the room quickly, following Mrs. Kebadse to the Matron's office.

"When is your detention?" She asked. Harry stiffened.

He was in for it.

"Well… ya see… I don't have one." Harry said timidly, waiting for Hurricane Kebadse.

"What do you mean, 'You don't have one?'" She said, her voice lowering dangerously. Harry paled.

"She said… that she would speak to Mark… and um… asked to see the bruising. I showed her my side and she let me off." Harry replied. He averted his eyes, feeling incredibly uncomfortable under his teacher's gaze. She said nothing for a very long time.

"Very well. I will talk to the Headmistress." She said, then walked away briskly. Harry let out a ling sigh of relief.

* * *

"Get out of my way, you filthy squib!" Marcus Flint yelled at Maisie, pushing her to the floor. She sighed; there was no way in convincing her brother that she was exactly the same as him, but with a malfunctioning magical core. Maisie felt disgusted that she used to look down on those without magic. That was what she was taught all her life.

She was told that Muggles were animals, and had tainted blood, and the Muggleborns stole the magic. Mudbloods.

She hesitated before knocking on her father's door. When she failed to show signs of accidental magic, her family had tried to do everything to force signs out of her. She nearly _died._ Her family had started to act shifty. When she failed to receive her Hogwarts letter, they had completely flipped out of control. That was the final straw. She was kicked out of her room, and made to go into the attic, where there were doxies. Her family didn't care. She could no longer give orders to the house elves (Who now started calling her names, on the orders of her brother) and was sent to a cheap Muggle school in an _awful_ area of Surrey, in a second hand uniform. Maisie wondered if it could get worse.

That was when she met Harry Potter.

To her immense surprise, his clothes were no worse than hers.

She had walked into the classroom, and scanned the room. And saw this scrawny boy in horrid uniform. He seemed to be compressing a relived smile when he looked at her, and she wasn't surprised. Maisie smiled back, but the smile faltered when she saw that he was sitting on the desk. All the mean looking people in the class were doing that.

She sat next to him anyway. He looked like he needed a friend.

When the teacher walked in, he shot into his seat and blushed. She almost laughed; he obviously wasn't used to it. And then the register came, She answered "Yes Miss" to Maisie Flint, and then… Harry Potter.

Harry Potter? The Boy-Who-Lived? Hand me downs? _MUGGLE SCHOOL?_

Maisie checked to see if it was the same Harry Potter, as Harry was quite a common Muggle name, and the surname Potter was definitely not unheard of in the Muggle world. But there I was. A thin, lightning bolt shaped scar, sat proudly on his forehead. He looked confused when I looked at him, as if he didn't know how she knew about the scar.

Maisie may be a squib, but she was still from a Slytherin-raised family. She was cunning enough to work out what was going on. He could have been a squib like her, but there was no way that he would have survived the killing curse without magic. So that meant that he was never told about his heritage, hence the confused look, and his Hogwarts letter had been hidden. But she needed to make sure.

Maisie asked him certain questions, and got valid answers. His Muggle relatives (They were _obviously_ Muggle if he had his letters stopped) had wanted him to live like them.

She hesitated before knocking on her father's door. Every time she came near him, he fingered his wand, and she swore that she once him mouthing " _Avada Kedavra"_ at her. But this was necessary.

She knocked.

"Come on." Her father's deep voice sounded. She opened the door, and her father scowled when he saw her. "Get out Maisie."

"No, dad this is important..."

"I said, GET OUT."

"Harry Potter goes to my school!" Maisie cried. Her father studied her for a bit, probably using Legilimency.

"I see. Tell me all about it." Maisie nodded, and told him everything.

* * *

 _Sorry about the wait, Chapter 5 will be out at some point between Saturday 10_ _th_ _and Tuesday 13_ _th_ _October._

 _Please Review!_


	5. Out of Control

Chapter 5 – Out of Control

"So you're telling me that _Potter,"_ He spat out the name as if it were a disease, "Goes to the Muggle school with you?" Damien Flint asked Maisie, with a raised eyebrow. It made him look quite stupid, as he resembled a surprised troll when he did it. If it weren't for her dad's natural intimidation, she would have laughed at it.

"Urrrr, yes, He is in my class. He isn't a squib either, I subtly asked if he got a Hogwarts letter, and he said that he received two letters delivered by owl that his relatives wouldn't let him open." Maisie replied. Her dad was quiet for a few moments, then a grin slowly came onto his face. Then started chuckling. Frankly, it scared Maisie quite a bit.

"This is fantastic! He might never go to Hogwarts, then he will be easily targeted by the Dark Lord, and he won't be able to do anything to defend himself…" Damien started to mutter to himself, and Maisie took that as her cue to leave.

She sat on the tiny bed in the attic, thinking things through. Ever since she found out that she was a squib, she saw everything in a completely different light. She almost became a different person entirely. She was still Slytherin, just a more likeable one with completely different views regarding Pureblood Supremacy. When it came to Harry Potter and Voldemort, she took Harry's sympathy.

Now was the time to tell him his heritage.

* * *

Harry stood in front of number 4 Privet Drive, his fist suspended in front of the door. He wandered if he made the correct choice; he overheard a staff meeting after school in which all of his teachers were complimenting him. He knew that it was only a matter of time before they emailed his aunt and uncle, and he will be punished for being clever. He thought he could get away with it as Dudley wasn't there to tell on him, but didn't realise how intelligent he really was until today.  
He rapped on the door sharply, again, again. It was over a minute before someone answered the door.  
It was Uncle Vernon.  
His large purple face leaned over him, and his paw swiped at the scruff of his neck, and threw him inside of the house slamming the door behind him.  
"You, boy! You have half an hour to cook Chicken Tikka Masala, and clear Dudley's room! Go!" He boomed.  
"Yes, Uncle Vernon." Harry replied in a monotone. He rushed to the kitchen, gathering all the ingredients as quickly as possible.

As he was stirring the chicken around the pan, he let his thoughts wander. His new friend, Maisie, the first friend he ever had, was mysterious. Why couldn't he have normal things happen to him? Why did his only relatives have to be the Dursleys?  
Just as he was pondering about how she knew about the owls, and owl happened to fly through window and land next to him.  
Chicken forgotten, Harry practically leapt at the owl so he could read what was inside. This one didn't have a seal like the other two.

 _To Harry Potter,  
My name is Ron and I am a wizard, like you. I heard that you haven't got your Hogwarts letter, so I decided to do it for you.  
You need to owl Minerva McGonagall asking for another letter then you should be fine.  
Ron Weasley  
PS. I like Chudley Cannons. _

Harry lowered the thick piece of paper with mixed emotions. Firstly, he had received his first mystery letter that he could read. But it was utterly ridiculous, and even if it were true it was incredibly blunt. _'I am a wizard, like you_.' Huh, sure.  
And 'owl' wasn't a verb, so he wasn't entirely sure how he would 'owl' somebody. And what the hell was a Chudley Cannon...  
Harry shook his head and hastily continued cooking his meal, slightly disappointed. He quickly turned the heat off as the chicken had burnt slightly, and continued the rest of his chores as quickly as he could.

* * *

The next day was going well, until lunch time. He was in the corner, chatting with Maisie, when a whole group came. Not just Mark Jacobson and his gang, but a whole group of girls, too. Some he recognised from his primary school.

"Oi, Potter! Where'd you get all them stimulants from?" One girl from his primary school jeered at him.  
"Yeah! We don't need stimulants to be clever! HA!" Another boy who he didn't know joined in.  
Harry grimaced slightly, but decided to keep a cool head. "If you're as clever as you say you are, you would remember that on the first day of primary school I was like this, and came back the next with broken glasses and bruises? Now there is no Dudley to 'make look stupid,'" Harry make quotation marks with his fingers, "I can do whatever I like. Now excuse me, I'm eating my lunch." Then proceeded to ignore them. A few shrugged and walked away, but most assumed that he was lying.

"Well Potter, that reminds me. How are your parents?" Another shouted. Harry's fists clenched around his knife and fork, but continued as if nothing happened. The offender was unsatisfied. "I wonder how they were feeling that night! Pretty pissed, huh?" He smiled. "How does it feel Potter? Your parents died drunk?"  
By now, almost the entire hall was listening to the confrontation. Harry was almost shaking with rage. He felt some kind of energy building up inside him, it filled him up, taking away rational thought.

"MY PARENTS DID NOT DIE DRUNK! THEY DIED PROTECTING ME!" Harry yelled. The boy in front of him fell unconscious. "I AM FED UP OF YOUR LIES!" The entire group in front of him passed out, but not before being suspended in the air for a moment.

Any trace of conversation left in the hall turned completely non-existent. Harry's eyebrows creased into a frown, wondering what made him say those things, because _he_ seemed to be the one who was lying.  
After a few heavy breaths, his world turned black.

* * *

Petunia Dursley saw herself to be a respectable, ordinary woman. So when another one of those blasted owls flew through her window, she completely ignored it.  
After roughly five minutes of ignoring, the owl started screeching in her ear. Petunia pushed it away, a scowl on her face. The owl just hooted in annoyance and clipped her ear. Petunia gave out a little shriek and plucked the letter from its leg.  
It was a letter like the one her freak sister received, and another piece of paper.

 _Dear Mr Potter,  
As you have gathered from the other letter, you are a wizard. I know this is a lot to take in, but you need to read this as soon as possible.  
As a wizard gets older, they become more powerful, and if they don't channel it into a wand in time, they can be quite destructive. In a moment of intense emotion, they can get so far as blowing things up. This is why it is best to go to Hogwarts._

Petunia didn't read on from there, as she had got the idea. She had to send the boy to Hogwarts.  
She had tried to take all the magic from him, but she couldn't bear what all the neighbours would say if her nephew suddenly blew up a building. His teleportation to the roof building had been bad enough…

She would keep him going for as long as she could before something… _abnormal_ happened, then she would have to tell him. Petunia sat back in her chair; the boy was twenty minutes late from school. She would take out her stress on him when he returned.


	6. Heritage

Chapter 6

Maisie was just about to explain to Harry about the fact that he was a wizard, and the Boy-Who-Lived, when a bunch of immature kids from his primary school and their friends started taunting him. Maisie saw all the telltale signs of extreme anger in his eyes, even if his face was relatively calm.  
After a little more taunting, Maisie was about to interfere but stopped as she noticed Harry's skin go red; not the colour you go when you get embarrassed or angry, it seemed to glow. He then lifted off the ground slightly, and Maisie simply gaped. She had not realised that he was so powerful. He started yelling about his parents, and the people in front of him fell unconscious one by one. Harry frowned, then collapsed from magical exhaustion.  
Maisie continued to imitate a fish.  
How had he known? He told her that his parents had died in a car crash. He couldn't have known.  
Mrs. Kebadse walked over to Harry's unconscious form and started muttering various curses under her breath.  
The children around her started whispering, and Maisie caught a few remarks like "Did you see that? He floated!" And "He has Mrs. Kebadse as his form teacher? Unlucky guy!" And the most frequent one of "How the hell did they all faint like that?"  
Maisie watched as his teacher carried him out from the hall, probably towards the Matron Office. She decided to follow him with his lunch so he could eat it when he woke. It should be a while, as his exhaustion seemed quite severe.

* * *

"Mr Potter, you will receive an after-school detention for showing..." Mrs. Kebadse scrunched up her face in distaste, "Unnatural traits and harming other students. You will write lines for half an hour, then you will have a little... Chat with the Headmistress for ten minutes. Meet me in classroom M2 at 3:45. Do not be late." With that, she turned and walked out of the overcrowded Matron's office. There were currently over 10 unconscious children in the tiny room designed for two or three.  
Harry scowled at the closing door. He had fallen unconscious, and the first thing he gets is a detention.  
"Ah, Potter, how are you feeling?" The Matron asked. Harry jumped; she had somehow managed to sneak up behind him.  
"I'm fine, thanks." Harry replied, expecting her to leave him alone.  
"Are you sure? I have painkillers for you?" She waddled over to her desk. Yes, waddled. Harry stifled a laugh as he took in her stereotypical appearance.  
She was as tall as she was round, so she resembled a fairly large black and white beach ball. She wore one of those old fashioned petticoats and aprons with a stupid frilly white hat that looked a little like a shower cap. She had short curly blonde hair that was greying slightly and a kind, if not a little patronising, smile. Harry thought that it was the worst uniform imaginable.  
He was about to decline again, saying that he felt fine, but the door opened and Maisie walked in. Harry breathed a small sigh of relief.  
She looked a little surprised that Harry was awake, but recovered quickly.  
"I brought your unfinished lunch, Harry." She turned to the matron. "Is it ok if he leaves?" The Matron turned and peered at Harry, as if looking for some kind of injury that might have materialised since she last checked. Finding nothing, she let Harry go. He mouthed 'Thank You' at Maisie as they left that caused her to grin, although there was something else in her expression that Harry was unable to identify.  
She had got over her previous shyness quite quickly, and the two children were now very good friends. Harry still felt as if there was something she wasn't telling him, but they had only known each other for a day.  
"Soooo, Harry, can we talk? You know, I'd like to talk about some things away from prying eyes. People are relatively skilled in the arts of eavesdropping in this school. So, you know, we can get to know each other a little better?" She asked. The way she said it made the question seem innocent, and she kept a relatively straight face, but Harry could tell that they were about to have some kind of serious conversation. Harry didn't know how he could tell, he just had a strange kind of hunch about it.

* * *

"In here." Maisie pulled Harry into a small classroom labelled H1 and shut the door. She looked around, making sure the room was empty, and placed a magical locking and silencing contraption on the door. She had managed to get her mother to charm it for her, as she wasn't as harsh towards Maisie as her father and brother. It glowed for a moment, and the door clicked. "There, it's locked. It can only be opened from the inside, and no one can hear us either. This is what I want to talk about." She was about to continue, but she noticed that Harry was staring at the door, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide. Maisie sighed; she had anticipated a reaction like this. She decided to let go of all her tact and foolishly stated, "Harry, you're a wizard." Harry's eyes were almost popping out of his head.

"I… I'm a what?" Harry stuttered.

"A wizard. When you own a wand, you can do magic. Levitating things, teleporting, you name it." Maisie paused. "You can even turn people into toads and pull rabbits out of top hats… Although, you need a rather inconspicuous way to cast the spell for the latter to be effective." She added thoughtfully. Harry was still gaping. "You will go to the magic school, it's called Hogwarts. You can transfer there… Just think about it. You will never see these Mug… non-magical folk again. Until the summer, anyway. You won't be called a freak." She smiled. "You could threaten them with magic as comeback, but you're not supposed to reveal magic to M… non-magical folk."

Harry was gazing at her in wonder. "So… I'm a wizard?" Harry said quietly. Maisie nodded an affirmative. "And I can do magic?" Maisie nodded again. Harry paused, then snapped his head round to look at her. "How did you know?" He asked sharply. "From what you've told me, wizards are supposed to be a secret. You're quite plainly not going to Hogwarts."

Maisie shifted. "I am what is known as a squib. Both of my parents have magical powers, but I was born without them. I am unable to make a wand work." She glanced at Harry again, and noticed that his sceptical look had been replaced with curiosity. "Right, I can't think of anything else to say… So, fire."

Harry immediately opened his mouth. "Why did you call non-magic people mugs before changing what you were going to say?"

Maisie smirked in amusement. "They're not mugs, silly, they're Muggles. A Muggle is the name magical people call the ones without magic. Born to Muggle parents, of course. I'm a squib, not a muggle." Harry nodded, then opened his mouth again.

"You know you mentioned the letters?" He paused, but carried on before Maisie could do anything, obviously eager to ask the question. "Those were from Hog… uh, H… Hogwarts? Right, Hogwarts. Weren't they? And Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia didn't want me to go?" His face morphed from excitement to anger. "Wait… They knew! They must have known, or they wouldn't have stopped those letters! They knew all this time and they didn't tell me! What else did they keep from me? Did I have a sibling that died in the car crash that killed my parents?" Harry yelled.

Maisie noticed the room getting a lot warmer. She also noticed the air around Harry turn a tinged red blur swirling around him.

"Harry! Calm down! You mustn't let your emotions control!" Harry ignored her. He started to float slightly. "HARRY! Listen to me! Think of something that makes you happy! Ur… Think of going to Hogwarts!" Harry's fists clenched.

"I'll get you, Petunia. I will crush your blubbery skin, Vernon! You try to take my life, I'll-"

"HARRY POTTER! STOP!" Maisie shouted, near tears. She couldn't let Harry's emotions take over. "HARRY! YOU WILL KILL YOURSELF!" She yelled.

Harry's red tinge died down as he developed a look of shock. "Oh my god," He muttered, before he stopped levitating and fell to the floor.

"Harry!" Maisie shouted again, helping Harry off the floor. He still wore a terrified expression.

"What on earth did I do, Maisie?" He said quietly.

"You got angry… VERY angry. Do us all a favour and get a wand soon, please? You are getting more powerful as you get older, but without a wand, you could easily blow something up. That is something that silencing and concealment wards cannot fix."]

Harry nodded silently.

"Good; now, you missed almost the whole of lunch. It's Science next." Maisie took the magical contraption off the door, opened it, and held up an imaginary sword. "To Science!" She announced, running towards a classroom labelled 'S4,' a laughing Harry running behind her.

* * *

"Homework; Please complete page 9, exercise 2 by tomorrow. You may go."

The scramble to get out of the door had started when the teacher called out to Harry. "Excuse me, Potter, please come and see me." Harry glanced around nervously, half-smiled at Maisie and gestured to the door, telling that she could leave. She smiled reassuringly and left for lunch.

The talk with his teacher had been the same as most of the others (With the exception of Mrs. Kebadse, of course.) He had asked Harry why he hadn't gone for a private education, as it would "Broaden his horizons and knowledge capacity." Harry, of course, knew that this was complete rubbish (He was simply average, and had no desire to become any cleverer.) It certainly wasn't his fault that most of the kids in Little Whinging weren't exactly bright.

He walked quickly across the deserted playground, hoping to have lunch as quickly as possible. He was halfway across when he heard them.

Mark Jacobson and his gang were back. Except this time, he had a tall blonde girl next to him, who reminded Harry of a Barbie.

She had very long and very fake lashes, and had a lot of black sparkly eyeshadow. Her lips were dark purple and Harry swore that her face was orange. She was leaning on one of her hips with the other leg out to the side, her body tilting. Harry thought that she had scoliosis syndrome, but he realised she was only trying to look cool.

"You won't get away from us now, Potter! We heard about what you did to Dudley, and you will pay!" the girl screeched in a high pitched voice.

Harry just stared at her. "What exactly did I supposedly do to my cousin?"

The girl just glared at him. "You insolent, bloody, co-"

Mark nudged her before she finished. "There are teachers that might hear you, Jeanne!"

Jeanne snorted. "As if I would get into trouble for-"

One of the cronies just pushed past her, fists raised. Harry backed away and remembered his magic- What if he could stop them? Make them change their minds? Make himself invisible?

"Stop!" He yelled and thrust his hands out. It had absolutely no effect.

"As if!" Mark shouted, and ran at him. Harry turned and sprinted as fast as he could. Unfortunately, he was so preoccupied with getting away, he did not notice the rather large stone that his foot got caught in. Harry toppled to the ground.

Then came the biggest amount of pain in his life. First, Mark tripped over him and landed straight on top of him, which was painful in itself. Second, Jeanne kicked his face. Thirdly, the ground nearby blew up, resulting Jeanne squealing and running away, Mark to scramble off Harry and also flee, and Harry to get a lot of rubble in his face. He realised that he had unintentionally vented his anger by blowing up the ground. He was left lying on the ground underneath a load of rubble, unable to move.

Maisie was right; He had to go to Hogwarts, or things could get so much worse than it was. As he lost consciousness for the second time that day, he thought about how he would look at Mrs. Kebadse in the face after this incident…


	7. Pain

Chapter 7 - Pain

"YOU FOOL!" Petunia yelled. She was almost hyperventilating. First, her nephew's freakishness had been exposed, and she had to pay a huge bribe to the local paper company so they wouldn't post the 'juicy story' about him. After all, what would the neighbours say? Second of all, he had managed to anger the grandson of the headmistress, AND the deputy. She had received 3 emails of complaint, and the brat had only been at school for a few days! "GET INTO YOUR CUPBOARD! YOU W- I DON'T CARE, DON'T INTERRUPT! YOU WILL GO TO YOUR CUPBOARD, OR I WON'T GIVE YOU YOUR PACKED LUNCH TOMORROW!" The pesky boy scampered to the stairs after that last comment.

Petunia sat (with her back straight, of course) on a floral armchair, sipping from a pink china teacup. She waited for ten minutes, sipping her camomile at regular intervals. After a while, she heard the tinkling of keys, followed by the scraping of metal being forced into a lock. She placed her teacup on the coffee table in front of her when she heard a loud thump of someone stepping inside the house and a few grunts.

"Vernon dear, can you come into the lounge?" Petunia called, her voice wavering slightly. She knew that her husband hated the freakishness as much as she did, but he did not share her worry of the neighbourhood gossip. It would be hard to convince him.

"What is it dear?" Vernon replied when he had squeezed through the door.

Petunia wordlessly handed over the letter from the deputy of that freak school. She watched with growing apprehension as she saw Vernon's eyes running back and forth over the paper. His face went through a range of emotions; from anger, to confusion, back to anger, then varying forms of defeat. She waited for a minute after his eyes had stopped scanning the paper before speaking. "Vernon?" She asked in a small voice.

"Petunia." Vernon replied. His voice was steely, but held acceptance. "What will we tell his current school? We could say that he was caught in a dodgy part of town threatening a group of well-brought up kids... We could come up with a cover of a Criminal Centre..."

Petunia shook her head sadly. "He is doing well at school, and nobody would believe after what they had seen of him in his lessons." She scrunched up her face with disgust. "We have to say that we've sent him to a private boarding school. They'll believe that as they actually suggested to him that he should transfer."

Both Dursley adults were cursing their luck. If the blasted freakishness hadn't taken over, then they'd have kept him safely at Stonewall.

"Freak!" Vernon yelled towards the direction of the stairs. "Get out this instance! No dinner if you aren't here in 5 seconds!" Vernon finished with a smug look on his face.

There was the sound of frantic scrambling coming from the cupboard under the stairs. There was a loud 'thump' followed by a soft 'ow' before a scared-looking Harry ran into the lounge with his hand clutching the top of his head. Petunia knew that he had hit it badly in his haste to leave, but she didn't care.

"Now listen here boy! We heard how your freakishness has affected the school, so we will have to transfer you!" Vernon thrust the Hogwarts letter and that McGonagall woman's letter into his hands.

* * *

Harry was elated. There, in his hands, was the letter he had been trying to get for so long! And his relatives had given it to him! He took out the first piece of paper, and ignoring the painful throbs on his head, read it through multiple times.

 _HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

 _Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_  
 _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_  
 _Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

 _Dear Mr Potter,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._  
 _Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31st July._  
 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall_

 _Deputy Headmistress_

Harry grinned. He would be going to Hogwarts as Maisie said! He looked up at his relatives. Uncle Vernon looked as if he was trying to look civil, but was failing, whilst Aunt Petunia had an expression of revulsion. Harry muttered a quiet 'thank you' before hurrying from the living room and up to his bedroom. He didn't even bother asking for painkillers.

* * *

Harry didn't sleep well that night. He was used to hurting himself, but hadn't done so for a while, and he just couldn't sleep properly with a painful head. He woke up that morning with about 3 hours of detached sleep. It turned out he had bashed his head very badly.

He couldn't remember what had happened the previous day very well. It was quite hazy, and he couldn't quite remember the specifics he learned in the lessons.

Blaming his mild amnesia on lack of sleep, he pulled himself out of bed very slowly. He decided that he would cook breakfast before going back to his bedroom. He left the eggs underneath the pan to keep the heat in, got dressed and took a blanket from his cupboard before returning upstairs. He had half and hour before the Dursleys woke.

He decided to use this time to think. Something had just occurred to him that glossed over him the night before; the letter stated that the reply should be no later than his birthday, but it was currently late August! He couldn't work out why the school bothered with him. After all, he was an insignificant freak with no friends. He doubted he would be any different at this Hogwarts place.

He didn't realise that he had spaced out, because he heard the Dursleys getting out of bed. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was 7:00, meaning that he had been thinking aimlessly on his bed for over fifteen minutes. He pressed his throbbing head harder onto his pillow, hoping the pressure would reduce the pain somewhat- he had read this in a first aid book- but the pain only increased. Not as bad as it was the previous day, but still quite bad.

He decided that he would stay in bed for as long as necessary, so he put his hands under his head and listened to the loud creaking of floorboards when Dudley or Vernon walked across the floor. The Dursleys had their very own shower each, so tiptoed into their bedroom to grab a supply of paracetamol from Vernon's bedside table while they were all occupied.

* * *

School was as uneventful as any normal person's day. Harry kept receiving odd looks, and heard people whispering furiously whenever they caught sight of him, but luckily, no... Unusual incidents happened.

Paracetamol numbed the pain slightly, but obviously not completely. He had difficulty concentrating on lessons and at break time. This made him an easier target for Jacobson. He had four new minor bruises and a large one on his left shin.

Maisie was both happy and sad at the same time when Harry told her about him receiving his Hogwarts letter. Harry made the offer of visiting when he recognised her lonely look, but she said that that would be a bad idea and her family might murder him. Harry laughed at this, but looking back on it he actually wondered whether it was a joke or not.

He made an agreement with his aunt that evening. He would 'drop out of the school the next day in order to join a private one on September 1st,' or at least that would be what they would tell the school. Petunia mentioned with a face of disgust that he would get his supplies the following day.

Harry had mixed feelings. He wanted to move schools badly, but he didn't trust his relatives. They'd probably end up spinning some story about how he had murdered his teacher and was to be moved to a criminal centre. He wouldn't be surprised if that happened, as he heard his uncle complaining about Stonewall 'having witnesses of his intelligence,' however that was supposed to work.

He hoped that his last day would be uneventful. The last thing he wanted was for Jacobson to muck it up. Maybe Selena Zaycombe would stop trying to teach him all the elements of the periodic table. He honestly didn't care about the atomic number of Darmstadtium at the moment, and it was distracting him from learning the real coursework.

He couldn't wait to leave...

* * *

 _Don't worry, I won't be abandoning this story. Sorry about the unexplained hiatus._

 _Only two more chapters are planned._


	8. Last Day

Chapter 8 - Last Day

"Is that Harry Potter?"

"The Boy-Who-Went-Missing?"

"The Boy-Who-Lived?"

"I thought he'd be buffer than that!"

"Where have you been?"

"Why is your head bulging weirdly?"

Harry always thought that the Wizarding World would be full of wise old men and mysterious magical folk who spoke in cryptic riddles. Now, he was surrounded by perfectly ordinary people with sub-par intelligence and an odd fashion sense inside an old pub.

These negative and disappointed thoughts quickly left his mind when he saw floating sponges and rags cleaning chairs, somebody stirring a coffee without touching it and other minor pieces of magic. He'd known about it for some time, but seeing it firsthand other than himself blowing stuff up and getting himslf injured because of it made him gape in awe.

"Ah! There you are, my boy!" A hoarse voice cut through the crowd. Everyone turned to the source of the noise, including Harry.

Harry stared, wide-eyed, at the eccentric man in front of him. He was very old, with a white beard that fell all the way past his stomach, tied by a band in the middle. He wore half-moon glasses and an odd robe decorated with little crescent moons and stars. The other people seemed to know this man, as they all broke into whispers, and starting pointing. He wanted to know what the man had to do with fumbles and doors, which is what everyone seemed to be saying.

"Hello, Mr Potter... I am Professor Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Would you like to follow me?"

Harry's mouth made a small 'o' shape and he nodded, rubbing the back of his head. THIS was Dumbledore?

Dumbledore smiled kindly at him, his eyes twinkling. Harry smiled back when he realised that the man standing before him was exactly what he though the Wizarding World would be like. In fact, he fit the Muggle stereotype perfectly. All he needed to do now was give Harry some riddles and advice that only made sense when it was too late.

"I'm afraid I'm a busy man, with the Hogwarts new year starting so soon, so I'm afraid we'll have to shop quickly. Let's get your wand first, shall we?

* * *

Maisie and Harry were sat on a bench in the corner of the playground. They both glanced at each other, hoping the other would start the conversation.

"So..." Maisie ran a hand through her hair nervously.

"My last day is today then." Harry tried to stop the awkward silence. He watched Maisie and the small frown on her face, scratching the back of his hand. He wondered what she was thinking, and voiced this question.

"Oh, right. You see... Hogwarts normally runs a check over on all of its new students to check for abuse. I know that Marcus got his in the Slytherin common room, so I don't know if the system is different for different houses. But I've noticed that as well as your old... Um, bashes, you have a very fresh one on your head. These two will be ample evidence of your predicament, and your relatives should be put in jail." Maisie explained.

Harry rubbed his wound and winced as he remembered how fresh it was. "Y-yes... I certainly hope so Maisie, I certainly hope so." He thought about Dumbledore the previous day, and the fact he hasn't commented on it.

* * *

The assembly hall of Stonewall High echoed loudly as a year of eleven-year-olds poured in, chatting loudly. After the teachers made some poor attempts at sitting them in the right places efficiently, the head of first year, Mr. Jograffey, walked to the front of the hall. "Welcome to today's first-year assembly. Before I announce the notices, I'd just like to point out that Harry Potter is transferring away," He announced. Harry shrank in his seat when everyone turned to look at him. "Be sure to say goodbye if you see him. Now, has anyone got any notices?"

Not many people actually listened to what any of the teachers had to say as they were all gossiping about Harry. The teachers tried to make them pipe down, but they weren't very good at controlling so many students at once. Harry heard many comments about him, despite them trying to hide them from him.

"He's that weirdo that keeps blowing things up, right?"

"Good riddance, I say. He humiliated my bro!"

"I thought he seemed so shy when I first saw him. Are you sure he's the same dude?"

He did hear the occasional positive about his good marks, but people still somehow managed to turn it into a negative about him 'being too posh for Stonewall.' Which, in a way, wasn't actually that much of a bad thing.

Maisie kept giving him worried looks, probably thinking that he would lose control of his magic again and proving everyone's rumours to be true in front of the whole year AND the teachers. Harry was hugging his knees very tightly, and anyone who observed closely enough saw that his knuckles were white. He was trying to block out the voices, but he told himself that today was the last day. Then he would be going to a place with other freaks like him.

* * *

The assembly seemed to drag on forever, with all the children still shooting him curious glances every few seconds. When the bell rang to signal five minutes until the first lesson, Harry was the first to stand and leave, Maisie following close behind.

"Look, Harry, this is your last day here. Try and pull through without any incidents? For me? Please?" Maisie looked at Harry with tired eyes, sounding very mature for her age. "I know we haven't known each other for very long, but I'm worried about you."

Harry flashed a large, genuine smile at her. "Don't worry. I will."

* * *

 _I tried to make Harry idolise Dumbledore like in the normal books. After all, it's only a slight AU. I had to rewrite this chapter about three times as I kept forgetting to do that, which is why it took so long to update. I also had exams._

 _In case you were wondering, I left the shopping out as the whole point of the story is Harry being in a Muggle secondary school, and all the problems that causes. I didn't want to stray too far from the original purpose, and I already made it too unrealistic by putting a squib in._

 _I also apologise for the Geography pun with Mr. Jograffey. I've been playing too much Ace Attorney. (Seriously, there's characters in there called Luke Atmey and Winston Payne.)_

 _One more chapter._


	9. Epilogue

**Chapter 9 - Epilogue**

 _Note: there are some minor HBP and DH spoilers in this chapter._

* * *

On a stormy afternoon where the grey clouds cast gloomy shadows below them, students from Stonewall High School were pouring out of the tall iron gates. Outside the walls of this school stood a tall man with windswept black hair, emerald green eyes and a distinctive scar on his forehead. He wore a long trench coat that he kept wrapped tightly around him to keep out the cold. People kept shooting suspicious glances at him as they walked out of the gates, but none seemed to show any signs of recognition until a thin girl walked out. She had dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes, but had a worn look about her. She immediately stopped to stare at the man when she caught sight of him.

A nineteen year old Harry Potter smiled at the girl who had stopped. "Long time no see, Maisie."

The girl named Maisie continued to stare for another few seconds before Harry's words sunk in. A smile blossomed on her own face, making her look a lot less haggard.

"Harry! It's been a while!" She started to walk towards him, one of her pale hands moving from the depths of her pockets to wave at him.

"That it has, Maisie. I thought that it'd be nice to see you again, after all these years... Seven, I think. I have finished Hogwarts." Harry shifted, obviously thinking that it might still be a touchy subject for the squib standing in from of him.

Maisie just smiled. "Congratulations. I heard that you finally got rid of the Dark Lord, too. I'm assuming you've been busy." She asked. Harry nodded at her.

His smile faded slightly and he turned to look at the imposing walls of the school. "I also came here to thank you. You were a great friend to me during the brief time that I was enrolled here, and without you I will probably be dead. Voldemort would've tracked me down and killed me, and I wouldn't have been able to defend myself."

Maisie blinked. "My father told me about the ritual that got the Dark Lord resurrected. Weren't you an essential part in that?" Maisie winced as soon as she finished her sentence as it hadn't been a tactful question.

Harry grimaced at the memory. "N-no. He was also possessing the body of Quirinus Quirrel in my first year. He was the Defence teacher," He smirked slightly. "He was the one who put the curse on the job, so it was rather foolish of him to possess him, of all people."

Maisie laughed quietly and breathed on her hands before stuffing them back in her pockets. "I can't stay here for long. I have a building full of worried house elves to get back to," She brought out a small pendant from her pocket. "My mother had a slither of sympathy for me, and created this permanent portkey. It takes me back home and to here with two different incantations." She slipped it back in, then gave a small shiver.

"Warming charm?" Harry offered, drawing a wand from his coat. Maisie nodded gratefully, and noticeably relaxed when Harry uttered the incantation.

"Thanks." She smiled again.

"How about we move somewhere else, rather than standing here getting dirty looks standing by an equally dirty school gate?" Harry joked, and started to walk in the opposite direction.

Maisie jogged to catch up. "You know that my family was never very... Welcoming, so I don't know much about what happened around the Wizarding World beyond what the newspapers say. Do you think you could...?"

Harry nodded. "Sure. After I left, I went shopping with Dumbledore..." He paused for a moment with a scrunched-up expression.

"Oh... Are you not over his death yet?" Maisie hunched over slightly.

"I am, it's just... Nostalgia. Yeah," Harry gave a half-hearted smirk. "Nostalgia. Anyway, I had some trouble with the Wizarding paparazzi, but other than that nothing happened. I made friends with a guy called Ron, and two girls called Hermione and Daphne. It took me a while, but I realised that it was Ron who sent me one of those letters I told you about years ago." He pulled a small green book out of his pocket.

"Do you keep important keepsakes in there?" Maisie asked.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, sort of. As you can see it's quite new, I bought and filled it a couple of days ago." He handed the book over to her.

She opened it with care and saw some letters and photos. She turned to September first and started to read through it, and let out a small gasp.

"Slytherin?!" Her jaw dropped.

Harry chuckled slightly. "Yeah. The hat said that Slytherin would be good. I knew that you would have been put in there if you were at Hogwarts, and I only learned of its negative reputation after I was placed in there. But I would never have made friends with Daphne if I hadn't been put there, so I'm fine with that."

Maisie nodded as she flicked through the book. "What's this? The Triwizard Tournament... Oh! Yes, I read about that in my home studies, before I knew that I was a squib. You were chosen?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. My fourth year at Hogwarts was when things started to get... Interesting. Triwizard Tournament, and all that. That's also when Draco Malfoy started to become my rival. He'd sort of ignored me before then, probably because I was in Slytherin, but he got jealous."

Maisie nodded. "Draco Malfoy, wasn't he the self-obsessed Death Eater?"

"Yep. If he was any more self-absorbed, he'd have turned into his very own black hole."

Maisie laughed and checked the journal again. "Really, that bad?"

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "Yeah. Anyway, I need to get back to Ginny now..."

"Ginny?"

"My beautiful girlfriend. She's Ron's sister, also a Gryffindor. She doesn't mind about my house, though."

"Great. I suppose I need to go now too," Maisie gave back Harry's journal and brought out her pendant. "See you soon! Floo 'Flint Manor' if you want to talk, OK?"

Harry nodded and gave her a hug. "See you soon, Maisie. Potter Manor for me, alright?"

"Sure! _Iustitia_!"

At the word ' _iustitia,_ ' Maisie disappeared, leaving Harry alone. Harry smiled and disapparated himself, leaving a cluster of leaves in his wake.

* * *

 _So that's the end of that story. I might rewrite several chapters as some are either too short, sloppily written, or both._

 _Constructive criticism is appreciated._

 _(In case you wanted to know, 'Iustitia' is latin for 'justice.' I needed a word that wasn't something obvious like 'home.')_


End file.
